


Bumblebee: Fallen Queen

by Saberlord_Oboeshoes



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 15:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19253605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saberlord_Oboeshoes/pseuds/Saberlord_Oboeshoes
Summary: My take on Karen Beecher, aka Bumblebee.





	Bumblebee: Fallen Queen

My name is Karen Beecher.  When I was four years old, I could recite the entire US Constitution.  When I was eight, I was helping our Hispanic, Japanese, and Haitian neighbors learn English.  When I was 13, I was a master of differential equations.

Naturally, I attracted quite a lot of offers from different universities and corporations, but my parents didn’t want them exploiting my intelligence.  Instead, they had me use my skills to serve our community, which I did through work as a tutor.

One day, I had to walk through a suburban neighborhood to see my young client.  On my way back home, through the same neighborhood, listening to my favorite tunes on my phone, I was about to cross the street when a police car pulled out in front of me with its lights and siren blaring.

Now, there’s one more thing you should know about me.  I’m black, as in African-American.  Had I any other ancestry, I doubt what happened next would’ve ever happened.

Out of the car came Office Shitbag (ok, not his real name, but I don’t care).  He was about 80 pounds overweight, had about 40 pounds worth of body armor, two firearms on each hip, and a face that belonged on an inbred hillbilly cannibal.

He was also at least two feet taller than me, so he looked down as he began angrily shouting, “What the hell are you doing here?”

I was frightened and could only stammer.  He repeated his question with even more anger, and quickly moved towards me as I walked back in fear.

“What, you too stupid to talk?  You so dumb you break into our houses, steal our property, and give our boys your ghetto diseases, n****r?”

Too scared to speak back, I turned and tried to run away, but he grabbed me and pulled me on the sidewalk.  Before looking down at me, he noticed that I had dropped my phone.

“Were you filming me, n****r?”

Before I could answer, he pulled out his taser and stung my chest with 50,000 volts.

//////////////////////////////////

Turns out some privileged housewife saw me outside her house and called the police to report “suspicious behavior”.  To top it off, Officer Shitbag claimed to be threatened by my “ghetto smack-talk” and thus tased me in self-defense.  After giving me a stern lecture on how I was an “improper citizen”, the crusty white male judge sentenced me to house arrest until I turned 18, and thanks to my new criminal record, my tutoring days were over.

I was angry – at the police, at the judge, at the world, but more than anything I was angry at my parents.  They always taught me that if I was a good person and respected others, the world would respect me back.  My brush in with authority had taught me otherwise.  After lashing out at them (for which they provided no response), I locked myself in my room.

With the internet as my only company, I learned I wasn’t alone.  There were hundreds of black teens across the country abused by the justice system, and after telling my story, I gained an awful lot of followers.  But making a few online videos just wasn’t enough.

One day, I decided to pass the time by cleaning out the closet, and I came across a massive crate that had belonged to my great-grandfather.  Before this, I just knew that he was an engineer for the army.  After opening the crate, I found exactly what he had done.

During the Great World War, the Amazons gave the Allies several magical gems to aid in their fight, but non-magical humans couldn’t make them work.  Except for my great-grandpa, who found that after heating a particular dark yellow gem, he could extract a liquid that could be placed into any material and make it shrink after a direct electrical current was run through it.

Thanks to his research, the army was able to create Doll Man and Doll Girl, a duo of spies who excelled in stealth thanks to their shrinking suits.  I remember reading about this, I don’t recall learning about their success was all thanks to a black man, let alone my great-grandpa.

I was a tad bit angrier now, but it was replaced by awe as I found one more thing in the create: a box containing that massive dark yellow gem.

///////////////////////////////////

I did have one common visitor: Malcolm, the black boy my age who lived next door to me.  I had helped him a lot with sciences, and when he learned what had happened to me, he introduced me to a new phenomenon: biohacking.

Biohackers, also known as grinders, were people who sought to improve their bodies using cybernetics and chemicals made in their own homes.  It sounded interesting, so Malcolm bought the most expensive kit (his parents were loaded and didn’t mind) and we set to work.

Most grinders were interested in life extension and slightly stronger muscle fibers, but none of them had excess to a magic gem.  From combining my great-grandpa’s notes with grinder techniques, I was able to inject some gem juice into my DNA.  After a direct current went through several microchips throughout my body, the first of which was connected directly to my brain steam so I could control it like another body part, it worked.  I could shrink down to the size of an ant.  After putting similar microchips and strains of hardened gem juice into my clothes, they could do the same along with my body.

However, the resulting falls nearly killed me.  Malcolm suggested that my new shrinking ability would be perfect if I could fly as well.  So, he caught a bumblebee from outside and I extracted the genes that corresponded to wing development.  After a week of the gene juice being injected into my back, I had two pairs of insectoid wings sticking out.

Flying around felt absolutely liberating, especially with that tracker off my ankle.  But as amazing as it was, it still didn’t feel enough.  Then I remembered what my parents had taught me about using my skills to help the community.

////////////////////////////////////

Sure enough, I found officer Shitbag again in that white neighborhood.  I guess the same housewife called when she saw me again, and he must’ve really confused when he got out of the car and found an empty sidewalk.  He didn’t even see me fly into his car and sit on his rearview mirror.  He got on the radio and bitched about how he couldn’t “teach a n****r a thing or two”.  I got the whole thing on my phone.

Yes, I could shrink down any objects along with me, by freezing another microchip in gem juice.  I did the same to his taser, and he still didn’t even notice.  I did the same to his guns, but I didn’t pick them up; I’m not a killer.

Officer Shitbag followed a call about disruptive behavior, which apparently was just some black kids trying to raise money for their soccer team outside a convenience store.  This was an act so heinous that three other cop cars had been called to the scene.

The other cops were aggressively patting the kids down and ripping open they’re baked goods, almost disappointed that they weren’t finding any drugs on them.  When Officer Shitbag got out, he approached a boy and angrily demanded he empty his pockets.  When the frightened boy hesitated, raised up his foot to kick him down.

Then I stung him.  At that size, the taser was just irritating, but it was enough to catch him off guard.  I found multiple exposed spots all over his body, mainly around his head, and just had a delightful time pissing him off.  Then I went for his jugular vein, and I made blood squirt out from his neck.  It wasn’t big enough to be fatal, but still effective.

The other cops reached for their guns in confusion, but I gave them all holes in the jugulars as well.  Then Shitbag stood back up and shouted, “Show yourself, you f***ing coward!”

So I did.  I simultaneously grew to normal size while kicking him in the face.  While he feel to the ground, I flew up, flew back down, lifted him up, tore off his body armor and let him fall onto his car, face-first on his windshield, smashing it into pieces.

I landed on the hood of the car with one foot on Shitbag’s head, making sure the other officers saw me in my masked costume.

“Listen up, you pigs!  Next time you think of bullying my people, remember your new friend Queen Bee!”

////////////////////////////////////

Malcolm uploaded my reveal to the world, and it was already getting buzz across the internet.  Thousands of people were calling me their hero and wishing I could teach the cops in their towns a few manners.

I was impressed with how I had stood up to those thugs, but even more so with what my body had physically done in that fight.  On top of that, I now felt a strong urge to see what other things my body could do.  Things that would require someone else’s help.

So, when I got back home, I grew to full size in front of Malcolm.  While still in the middle of congratulating me, I pulled him in for a kiss.  Then I took him into my parents’ bedroom and found their condom drawer.  My first time was awkward, and really uncomfortable for my wings, but now I finally felt completely liberated.

/////////////////////////////////////

For the next few months, I continued my secret life as Queen Bee, exposing and preventing acts of police brutality within my city.  While I could get very rough, I’m proud to say that I never killed anyone.  I even made it a habit to call for an ambulance just before each of my police encounters, and yes, that includes with Officer Shitbag.  However, the closest I did come to killing was when some SWAT officers raided a home looking for a stupid plant and I stopped them from shooting the family dog.  I really had to hold back my anger there.

Malcolm was happy to be my editor (and lover), posting not just my exploits but my rants as well, calling for the system to be fixed and encouraging the common oppressed people to stand up against corruption.  I inspired quite a lot of people who recorded police brutality while wearing masks similar to mine, and we managed to get some racist cops exposed and fired.

But then it all went to hell.

////////////////////////////////////////

About a year before I became Queen Bee, a 17-year-old black boy named Malik Young was shot and killed by a white police officer in my city.  Activists had long been claiming that he put his hands up and begged the cop not to shoot him.

However, the security footage from the parking lot showed a different story.  Malik was a suspect for a string of grocery store robberies, and when the cop confronted him, he pushed back and repeatedly tried reaching for the cop’s gun, prompting the cop’s partner to shoot him dead.

Personally, I thought this was a pretty cut case.  Cops actually did their job in looking for a real criminal, and then acted in self-defense, and then tried to save him.  I really thought that my followers would be smart enough to realize that.  Boy, was I wrong.

The grand jury acquitted both officers.  Malik Young’s supporters responded to this news by turning their community into a war zone.  Stores were looted, cars set on fire, white people dragged into the street and beaten – all to protest an act of violence.  To top it off, many of the rioters were wearing my mask and screaming out my name.

I quickly intervened.  Right after saving a white journalist who was reporting on the riots from being set on fire, I took a beating to several protestors wearing my mask.  Having gotten their attention, I flew above them and did my best to explain how destroying black neighborhoods and black businesses is no way to protest injustice.

Their response was to throw off their masks and call me a Nazi.

They continued rioting, and I did my best to stop it on my own.  I got pulled into the mob and beaten, screaming as I felt my wings being ripped up.  They would’ve been gone completely had the riot police not showed up.  I got hit with the tear gas too, but I was also grateful for it.  I honestly didn’t think I’d be thanking a policeman for saving my life.

/////////////////////////////////////////

The riots finally ended thanks to the joint appearance of Superman, Green Lantern, and Black Lightning.  All of whom also got labelled as Nazis by online activists.

Black Lightning carried me back home.  I was too injured to fly, and since bee wings can’t regrow, it seemed that my days of Queen Bee were over.  Of course, I had to tell my parents about my secret life … and about Malcolm.  They weren’t too happy, but I was still in my rebellious phase, so I wasn’t really all that respectful.

But Black Lightning revealed something – this wasn’t the first act of violence done in my name.  Many young black kids had put on my mask on assaulted police officers simply for being police officers.  Some of those assaults wound up fatal.

I asked Malcolm, who kept good record of my followers, if he knew about this.  He ashamedly responded back, “Maybe”.

I slapped him.  Then I broke down into tears.

/////////////////////////////////////////

With my family getting threats from activists and police lovers alike, we had to be placed under protection of the city government.  I was guilty of breaking many laws, and I was more than happy to serve time for all of them.

However, the day of my court hearing, we were instead given a visitor to our house – a middle-aged white man with brown hair, a suit and a briefcase.

“Allow me to introduce myself.  Dr. Ray Palmer, Professor of Physics at Ivy Town University.  I’m here to make an offer with Miss Karen.”

As my mother responded, Dr. Palmer vanished, his suit and brief case falling to the floor.  Then he appeared again, wearing a blue-and-red super-suit.

“You might have heard of me by another name – The Atom.”

None of us had.  He didn’t blame us, since he liked to lay low.  Heck, most of the Justice League didn’t even know about him.

///////////////////////////////////////

Turns out, Dr. Palmer’s grandfather was the one who took the credit for the invention of the Doll Man suit, but never handed the designs to the government.  He only allowed three suits to be made – for Doll Man, Doll Girl, and then later for their daughter Living Doll.  All three were destroyed once the users retired.

But the biggest surprise was a letter from my great-grandpa, revealing that his invention wasn’t stolen after all.  The last military device with a black creator was the gas mask, and many soldiers refused to wear them, resulting in hundreds of deaths.  Great-grandpa wanted to save as many lives as possible, and if letting a white man take credit for his work did that, then so be it.  After the war, the Palmer family had tried to locate him to give him the proper credit, but could never find him.

It was remarkable that he and so many others like him would be willing to risk so much – even their lives – all for men, women, and an entire country that hated them.  But black people back then seemed to understand a few things that we’ve forgotten.  That you can’t fight hate with hate, that there are things bigger than your feelings, and the only way to win against the bigots is to prove them wrong.

“I wanted to improve on my grandpa’s design, and I did so.  He could shrink down to 5 ½ inches, while I can go the size of a proton.  But you – you worked it into your own DNA and gave yourself a decent transportation mechanism!  There’s going above and beyond, and then there’s you!”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I did a lot of good with it.  I wanted to fight injustice, and wound up causing riots.  I tried to fix my mistake, and now I can’t even fly anymore.”

“What if I could give you a second chance?”

Dr. Palmer offered me the role of his apprentice, both for his research and his crime-fighting in Ivy Town, in exchange for the League expunging my criminal record.  My only other option was jail time, and my parents were promised protection either way.

I accepted his offer.

/////////////////////////////////////

Restoring my wings easy.  It was just a mater of hacking the lizard genes in-between my wing proteins.  I made myself a new suit, new non-fatal weapons, and a new alter ego – Bumble Bee.

Life as a sidekick was rewarding, but hard.  When not fighting crime, I was either training of researching.  I had no time for friends, and if I did, I couldn’t risk exposing my face to the public.  My spare time was spent making my own online videos, trying to de-inspire the radicalism that my old self had played a part in.

The only other teen hero I met was Supergirl.  She truly is the best friend anyone could ever have.  I’ll never forget the first time our lips, breasts, and waists merged together.

///////////////////////////////////////////

After the League left Earth, Supergirl and Wonder Girl (after a fun night in bed) asked me to go undercover at HIVE Academy, a training school for young supervillains.  As a meta-being who had been abused by the justice system, getting accepted was rather easy, but I still went with Bumblebee as my secret name.

My time at HIVE was all about gather intel, and I did so mainly through forming relationships.  As ashamed as I am to say it, I think I made quite a few real friends there.  Jinx especially stands out.  Oh, and I would brag about bedding 90% of the student body, but everyone screwed each other there.

My mission would’ve been a success had the Jump City titans not intervened.  We were forced to relocate to an undersea facility, where I was now giving my intel reports to Aqualad.  Talking with him was always interesting, as I seemed to be the first girl he ever spoke to.  I honestly enjoyed how flustered I made him.

Ultimately, it was time to destroy that HQ as well.  When the Jump City Titans returned, I revealed myself as the undercover agent.  I’m not gonna lie; the whole ordeal was a lot of fun.

///////////////////////////

After leaving HIVE, I volunteered to be part of the new group called Titans East.  My other teammates were Aqualad and Speedy, and I gave them both a proper welcome by showing them to their rooms and then dominating them in their new beds.

I think they got the message a little too well, as I quickly became the one to get most of the work done.  Even those little twin speedsters Mas Y Menos preferred slacking off.  Thankfully, Cyborg came to help us all off our feet, and after a few weeks of dealing with Brother Blood and HIVE, he appointed me as the new leader.

/////////////////////////////////////

Sex life in Titans East Tower was pretty routine.  Once Mas Y Menos were asleep Speedy and I would strip down fully nude, jump into Aqualad’s pool, and race to the other side.  Let’s say that I won.  Then Aqualad, underwater, would start performing oral on me from behind.  Meanwhile, Speedy would climb out, kneel down in front of me so that I could perform oral on him.  Then, after deciding I craved more, I would push myself back, allowing Speedy to jump in the pool in front of me.  He would start screwing me front the front, while Aqualad would start doing anal.  (Oh, and if Speedy had won the race, we would just switch our roles.)  After we all had a good climax, Speedy and I would wash up and go to sleep while Aqualad would hit his underwater bed.

But after a while, Aqualad and I started going close.  I believe I felt the first spark when he said I had beautiful brown skin “crafted by coral nymphs”, and it truly sounded like a genuine compliment.  We spent a lot of time together, talking about our pasts, him showing off Atlantean magitech that I geeked out ever, and him fawning over everything about me.  It got to the point where after out nightly threesomes, he and I would do our own round together.  This was the first time sex felt like more than just lust to me.

////////////////////////////////

That Tamaranean Red Lantern put up one hell of a fight.  Never expected her to project a mirror that reflected a starbolt onto my back.  The impact vaporized my wings and tore apart my spine and the muscle surrounding it, and I fell screaming to the ground.

While Kid Flash and Argent kept Blackfire away, Aqualad aught me in a massive bubble of water, and then started to use his magic to numb the pain.  He looked down at me, saying my name over and over, tears forming up in his eyes.

Weakened, I looked up and said his name back, and that was the first time our eyes truly met.

The following week, I was visiting my parents in Ivy Town.  They were both horrified at the damage my back had received, and shocked that I was still standing.

I told them all about my teammate and how he had saved me and healed me with his water magic.  My back and wings wouldn’t be growing back nearly as fast without him.

I also went back to the front door and welcomed him inside.

“Mr. and Mrs. Beecher, I am Garth, Warrior-Prince of Atlantis.  I would be honored to have the permission to marry your daughter.”


End file.
